Highway 340
by buttercupbella
Summary: AU. It was a place for recklessness, for an unknown journey, for chances. A lot of people drove through it in the hopes of getting somewhere. It was a form of escape. It was one thing leading to another. Apparently for Kokoro Yome, it was also necessary in falling in love, and he was in for the craziest ride of his life. For Black Maya's birthday.
1. Chapter 1

**|Author's Note| **This will have 22 chapters with less than a thousand words each, to be updated every day. Oh, and I will update _Killer _and _Irrevocable _soon. I think. I hope._  
_

**Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Dedicated to ****_Black Maya. _**To Erika, I am so sorry for being three weeks late. I've been running out of plots for SumiKoko already, and this is the most that I could do. You're one of the few people who gave me a warm welcome when I joined AoGA, so thank you for that. Belated happy birthday and I wub you so, so much :"") To **_Autumn Win-dow _**for constantly cheering for me to finish this fic. To **_AoGA _**for continuing to inspire me. You guys are the best!

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

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**Highway 340**

_Chapter One_

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The familiar intoxicating smell of liquor drifted to my nose. On rare occasions, I would have frowned and walked away from the aroma, because I simply wasn't accustomed to an excessively abused sin product named 'alcohol'.

But this 'occasion' didn't count as rare in my book. Heck, this wasn't even a big event - it was my job. Every night the slippery bottles flawlessly glided into my hands and spun in the air. I wasn't the least bit terrified that the glass would shatter on the puke-filled floor. In nanoseconds, the bottles were back in my own hands just as they were before, and if I were lucky enough to still have a sober audience, rounds of applause made my heart drunk in pride, even just for a while.

Toss. Catch. Spin. Toss. Somehow I felt liberated as adrenaline came rushing through my veins the same way that vodka or rum swished inside the clear bottles. I was having fun, at the same time, earning an income - the best of both worlds, as others often remarked.

But up until tonight, I never realized that I was tired and frustrated. Flairtending had become more than either my hobby or occupation - little by little, it metamorphosed into this sort of kaleidoscope that made everything clearer. Not better, just clearer. It was as if my mind had been doused with wine all this time, and I'd been getting small doses of aspirin to make things seem a little less blurry.

As usual, I stepped into the bar with an overload of much-needed confidence. My sleeves were rolled up, but it was still humid inside the spacious room - blaring beats of disco music bounced off the walls; hot, sweaty bodies danced along the rhythm; people hastily 'did the deed' in the not-so-hidden corners. I'd been used to witnessing strangers drown themselves in pleasure for just one night, but now, a bit of disgust sprung from the back of my mind.

I hated how those insolent drunkards slipped their wandering hands far enough down women's backs. I hated how those women straightened their hair, glossed their lips, and batted their superbly long eyelashes in a suggestive manner. I hated how all of them could be so damn stupid - playing games of seduction, having hormonal spikes, and ending up in some remote motel, where they could perfectly hear themselves in ecstasy while nobody else could.

But I can't do anything about it. I could only toss the bottle and hope that it doesn't break while flings, playboys, and - excuse the term - prostitutes came and went with their silly temptations. Each of their faces changed every single day, and perhaps they returned to their old lives, the ones which didn't consist of parties and beer and nicotine.

Two faces never broke their record of attendance, though. One belonged to a man who looked like a successful bachelor with his crisp suit and peculiar bloodred eyes, and one was possessed by one of those girls with a ton of make-up. I never really paid attention to details, but out of the corner of my eye I saw that certain girl letting the crimson-eyed bastard run his hand through the curve of her waist, grab a handful of her hair, and kiss her forcefully.

They were both drunk, that I knew. But what I couldn't comprehend was the fact that the girl with jet-black hair and heavy make-up authorized the guy to roam her body, yet she didn't look too happy about it. To be honest, her black mascara was already running down her face, and when the bastard took her hand to lead her outside the bar, she smiled and whispered words which I easily understood.

"_Okay, Natsume._"

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**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Dedicated to _AoGA._**You are the most brilliant people in the face of Earth.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Two_

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"_Okay, Natsume._"

I was used to that. I've watched it a million times. I've grown fond of that scene...but I had to admit that at some point in my flairtending career, I wanted to toss the bottles gracefully and hear the sound of glass smashing against the cold floor. I wanted to run after the both of them, to remove the girl from the guy's grasp, and to cease from being a bystander.

I had no idea that I actually had the guts to do just that.

It happened on a regular Saturday night. As usual, customers ordered alcoholic beverages and lingered around _my _portion of the bar. Some of them were compassionate enough to leave at least one dollar on their stools when they got bored enough of the same tricks. One under-aged entrant was dragged by the bouncers and thrown into the streets. A woman who didn't know she had been pregnant for months vomited all over the place, and was thrown into the streets, too. The evening had been pretty much composed of reckless acts.

In spite of all the stupid chaos, the odd 'couple' was present. Boozed up men ogled the woman's figure from head to toe - her seemingly expensive clothes were hanging loosely down her shoulders, her arms were planted with bruises, and her cheeks were damp. She looked like a slut, but as I stared at her dark green irises, somehow I knew that she was beautiful, and she was the type of a beautiful female who didn't deserve to be disrespected.

The man whom I assumed to be 'Natsume', on the other hand, kept his hand fixed on the woman's wrist. They were making their way out of the bar again, and this time, I wasn't just going to watch.

"Excuse me, Miss," I bowed down to the woman, as if she was part of the royal family; it definitely helped that I looked like a butler. She rubbed her bloodshot eyes and glared at me, as if telling me to scram before all hell broke loose. I offered her a glass of scotch and soda and nodded at her to try it (I mentally assured her that the drink had low alcohol content and did not, in any way, contain a spoonful of aphrodisiac. I only hoped that she got the point).

That was a bad idea, though. Natsume still had his death grip on her, and no matter how drunk he already was, he still had the senses of a sober man. He grabbed me by the collar and spoke in a slurred tone. His sudden offensive action resulted to the spill of the scotch and soda on his black polo. "What...the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Breathing, Sir," I cracked a smile and winked at the black-haired woman who was now obviously panicking. The scene played out on my head, and everything happened just as it was supposed to: Natsume, hurling a fist at my face; I, earning that stone-hard fist and a nosebleed; Natsume, smirking in smug satisfaction; I, lunging for the woman's hand and running for the door; everybody else, screaming for my potential murder. The woman kept yelling at my poor ears and stumbling on her four-inch heels that we happened to land smack on the pavement.

I probably looked like a lecherous kidnapper right there and then.

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**|Author's Note| ****Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Dedicated to _Autumn Win-dow, KidTantei,_ **and _**Devilish Dream **_for their wonderful reviews.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340 **

_Chapter Three_

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I probably looked like a lecherous kidnapper right there and then.

We stood up as swiftly as we fell on the side of the road - it seemed weird that the woman actually _wanted _to run away with me. Hastily, I fished out the keys to my rundown car and pushed the breathless woman inside the vehicle. The engine was revved up quite quickly, and I immediately slammed on the accelerator and pulled out of the parking lot in reverse. Natsume cursed me to the depths of purgatory, the manager of the bar ordered somebody to call the police, and, well, everything else was a blur, because I was busy laughing behind the wheel.

Maybe this was what it felt like to have absolute emancipation from all the bullshit in life. The sight of my bloodied face stared back at me through the rearview mirror but I shrugged the throbbing pain off. There was plenty of time to steal a first-aid kit later.

For a brief moment, I forgot all about the harassed woman sitting next to me. She looked ahead with blank eyes and fixed her messed-up clothes, moving a strand of her permed hair away from her face while she was at it. When she caught my eye, she looked like she was about to thank me for the stunt that I pulled and treat me like a modern-day version of a superhero in a red cape. I don't know if the adrenaline was affecting my vision, but I was completely wrong.

She slapped me. Once. Twice.

Good thing I was a decent driver, for if not, we might have swerved, hit one of the lampposts, and ended up in the ICU. The woman let out a string of curses before she turned back to see me rubbing my swollen cheek. "_You - _you're impossible - just - ugh! I can't believe you had the guts to do this, and you don't even know me!"

"Trust me, sometimes I don't believe in my abilities, too," I murmured, squinting at the neon signs on the road.

She groaned and folded her arms in defeat, visibly shaking in her seat. "Please don't tell me you're going to take me to your house. I can pay you, I swear! Do you want a million dollars?"

I grinned and flashed her a thumbs-up sign with one hand on the wheel, but she shook her head, as if realizing her mistake. "I take it back - okay, maybe a hundred thousand dollars. I can pay you in installments, zero interest. Just _please_, pull over and let me go!"

In the middle of the empty and desolate highway with a sign that read 'Highway 340', I hit the brakes and looked at her frightened dark green eyes. They were every bit of enigmatic I've imagined them to be, and they were just as mysterious as the woman's affair with Natsume. However, they were everything her relationship with the bachelor was not.

_Her eyes were lovely.  
_

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**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

__**|Author's Note| ****Rated T** for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340 **

_Chapter Four_

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_Her eyes were lovely._

My fingers traced their way to the main lock, and a pop resounded in my ears. "I'm not a criminal, and it's not my fault if you don't find another kind driver out there who's willing to let you hitchhike. Besides, I doubt that you'd have any cash on you, seeing as you always went to the bar with the asshole - I mean, Natsume." I expected her to walk out with the humongous pride and heels of hers, but she remained on her seat with her lips pursed.

"Go," she whispered with hesitation lacing her voice. In short, I wasn't sure if my ears were working correctly.

"What?"

"_I said_," she gritted her teeth and punched the wheel, causing a loud, unpleasant honk, "go. Go, drive the car, take me to wherever the hell you want to be. Get your freaking foot on the move before I change my mind!"

She crinkled her nose and bared her canines in a futile attempt to threaten me. With the black spots of mascara and hints of dirt and scratches on her scowling face, she looked more like a risen zombie rather than a woman who just came from a riot in a disco bar. Under her command, I resumed driving along the silent road and listened to the sounds of her breathing.

"I must be a complete idiot to trust a stranger with my own life," she muttered in an audible soliloquy.

"Not true. But you must be a complete idiot to let yourself be molested by an inebriate." I took a left and didn't mind her negative reaction.

It was already a quarter after 2 AM. In contrast to the extreme heat in the bar, the early morning on the road felt like a prologue of winter. A slow romantic song played on the radio, and its soft lulls stayed in tune with the woman's shallow breaths. Here I was with a person I barely even knew, without a job, with a beat-up car, with blood all over my clothes, and with the inner desire to discover more about the woman sitting next to me. Unlike other males in their twenties, I had the uncanny ability to distinguish if my feelings were provoked by hormones or not. In this case, I was sure that I was just plain curious.

The speedometer read 220 kilometers per hour. Damn the limit, then.

"So," I said, startling the woman with the freakishly curly hair. It was getting hard to describe her as a person with her own attributes, so I decided to name her 'Permy' from now on. "I guess we missed out on introductions and those stuff that people did when they first met."

Permy batted her eyelashes and glowered at me. "No thank you, I'm not really interested in finding out who my captor is and what he does with his life. I just want to go home, sleep, and forget everything. Don't worry, I won't sue you."

Instead of giving up, I elbowed her with a hint of teasing. "That's a wonderful start. Tell me, where's your address?"

She didn't give up, either. Permy poked me in the ribs with her razor-sharp nails and chuckled humorlessly. "Nowhere. Home is where the heart is, you see, and I don't happen to have any heart that I know of."

I slowed down to 180 and changed the angle of the rearview mirror so that I could look at Permy better. "You suck at making jokes."

"I wasn't joking."

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**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

**|Author's Note| ****Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**Dedicated to **_**Black Maya.**_The whole series is dedicated to her because I failed to give this to her on her exact birthday so yeah. 8D

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

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**Highway 340**

_Chapter Five_

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"I wasn't joking."

The cold silence ensued, but it felt comfortable like a Christmas eve spent in front of the fireplace with cookies and fresh milk. No words were required - the lazy song continued reverberating in the insides of the vehicle, but the beat quickly changed and a familiar tune played. I drummed my fingers on the wheel, because heck, this was Maroon 5 on the radio, and I happened to collect all of the band's albums when I was a teenager. Due to certain poverty-related circumstances, I had to bid farewell to those albums.

"_Beauty queen of only eighteen, she had some trouble with herself_," I began singing (in a weird, out of tune way, mind you). Permy laughed, this time, a bit genuinely, and turned the volume up so the music could be heard even in the houses on the side of the road. She clapped her hands in time for the rhythm of the song and warbled along with me. It was funny to think that my favorite band would be the only reason for Permy to loosen up to a stranger like me.

She rolled the windows down and peeked her head out into the open. Soon, she was screaming, in perfect pitch, the lyrics to _She Will Be Loved. _"_I drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door, I've had you so many times but somehow I want more-"_

"_I don't mind spending every day, out on your corner in the pouring rain," _she waved her hands and hooted at the lack of authority on the road. If we were in broad daylight, people might have thought that she was crazy and dangerous and retarded. To me, though, she was perfect, and I would risk all of my future job opportunities if it meant getting to know someone like her.

In the midst of me singing awkwardly while trying to keep my eyes on the road, she smiled at me and blurted, "Sumire Shouda!"

"What?"

"I'm Sumire Shouda," she slowly droned out, emphasizing every syllable of her name. Permy- I mean, Sumire closed the windows and settled into the passenger seat. Holding her hand out, she grinned once more. "By the way, you're a terrible singer."

"Kokoro Yome," I shook her hand, still disbelieving. Somehow, I'd gained her trust, and I saw her in an entirely different light. Far more than her mascara-stained cheeks and crumpled clothes, she was Sumire Shouda - a woman in her twenties who knew the lyrics to a Maroon 5 song, and a person who surely didn't seem to fit in a room full of people who had immoral longings. I knew I was getting distracted from all the thoughts about Sumire, so I stopped in front of a closed convenience store.

She twisted her hair with her fingers and gaped at me with amazement and interest. "Are you serious?"

Sometimes she got so vague (or maybe I was becoming too deaf) that I always ended up asking the same question over and over again. "What?"

"Oh," she sighed and got out of the car. Flattening her skirt, Sumire gave me a sign of military salutation. "Turns out you didn't have to ask for my address, after all." She waved her hand one more time and walked away in her heels towards the small orange apartment beside the convenience store. It looked decrepit - the paint was peeling off and the light bulbs on the front porch weren't completely lighting up - but her smile was all it took for the lonely building to look alive again.

After memorizing the landmarks, I waved my hand, too, and made my way to my own home.

That's when I bit my tongue and slammed on the brakes again, two kilometers away from Sumire's apartment.

_Shit, I didn't get her number.  
_

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**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!

(I love Maroon 5, by the way.)


	6. Chapter 6

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**Whole fic is dedicated to _Black Maya._**

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340 **

_Chapter Six_

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_Shit, I didn't get her number._

**-x-**

Groggily, I followed my customary route to the disco bar. I drove by a gas station and had my tank filled up with unleaded gasoline for good measure. Four hours of sleep, for me, was not even a proper nap, given that I had my daytime job at the grocery and a night shift at the bar. The two places were conveniently five hundred meters apart, so I was lucky to save on gas and time. I didn't think that fact was lucky for me today because I knew that my manager would be on the lookout and I'd probably be locked up in jail.

Nevertheless, I proceeded to the grocery, wearing an over-sized, puke-colored uniform. To top it off, I was required to wear a hat with a picture of a kitten on it. Apparently, the owner of the grocery store loved felines, so she incorporated her fondness of cats into the theme of the store. I wouldn't be too surprised if some tourists thought that the place was a veterinary clinic.

I started the day by stacking cereal boxes on the shelves. My co-workers greeted me whenever they passed by the aisle to which I was assigned, and more than five times in a few hours, they had asked me for lunch in the nearby mall. I politely declined by saying I had to prepare for my night shift, and they understood. Perhaps what they comprehended far more than my rejection of their friendly offers was the thought that I didn't want to get attached to other living beings.

A brilliant exception would be Sumire Shouda, of course.

Since I had a two-hour break before my flairtending job started (that is, if I was still welcome in the bar), I sugarcoated my conversation with the daughter of the manager - she was named Anna and she was in-charge of the pastry section - and I triumphed, earning a fondant cake from her. She twirled a strand of her cotton-candy pink hair and motioned for me to go to work.

In a matter of minutes, I was on the road yet again, looking for the apartment with the standout orange hue. I pulled over and noticed that an old landlady was screeching in the doorway about some kind of compensation that was due months ago. Sumire appeared, her hands lined with bubbles and soap and her hair in a messy bun. She looked at her feet and apologized, saying that she only needed a week to pay her overdue rent.

The moment the landlady retreated to her own quarters with a haughty stance, I emerged from the car with the fondant cake. _One step. Two steps. Three steps. _When I was barely an inch away from her doorstep, I considered going back to my car. It wasn't like we had a one night stand that had an unspoken contract speaking of no attachments and emotions - there was this tingly feeling at the pit of my stomach that urged me to forget about being friends with Sumire Shouda.

That feeling, however, was overwhelmed by my curiosity. As always.

I didn't bother to knock on her door (I figured out that she would kick my shin even if I did, anyway) and proceeded to her back door with naked feet. The smell of detergent overpowered the sweet scent of the cake, and Sumire was there, crouching over her laundry. She took both ends of her dripping wet shirt, soaked the clothing in the mixture of cold water and soap, and rubbed the ends together. After squeezing the water from the shirt, she threw it into the dryer and wiped the sweat accumulating on her forehead.

She was just too beautiful for her own good.

I hoped that I went by unnoticed, but Sumire looked at me and clasped her hands over her mouth. Although her physical state showed that she wanted to assault me for breaking into her personal space, she merely wiped her hands on a towel hanging on the doorknob. "If I remember correctly, you're Kokoro Yome."

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**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	7. Chapter 7

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340 **

_Chapter Seven_

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I hoped that I went by unnoticed, but Sumire looked at me and clasped her hands over her mouth. Although her physical state showed that she wanted to assault me for breaking into her personal space, she merely wiped her hands on a towel hanging on the doorknob. "If I remember correctly, you're Kokoro Yome."

"And if I remember correctly," I instinctively hid the cake behind my back, "you're a party-goer, not a laundrywoman."

"Funny," she rolled her eyes and fixed her damp top. "Would you mind waiting for a little bit? It's Sunday and I have a lot of chores to do. You can make yourself feel comfortable on the couch. Watch some movies or something. Take things from the fridge - although I think the potato salad is already spoiled - and stay put."

I settled the fondant cake on the kitchen counter which was cluttered with knives, spoons, and . "Oh, it's okay. Can I help you out?"

Sumire smiled at the sight of the delectable dessert and grabbed an apron from the shelf. She tossed it to me and I caught it with surprising agility as the flairtender that I was. It occurred to me that she wanted me to cook - based on experiences, both firsthand and secondhand, I found out that women liked men who had competence in culinary arts. Males often used that to their advantage in romance, but I rationalized that I was doing only this for Sumire's friendship.

Friendship. Right.

Good thing Sumire wasn't the kind of girl who kept flowery aprons. I tied the strings of the apron into a tight knot and glanced at the checkered design on the thin cloth. "What's the menu for today?"

"Anything you like, as long as you can cook it without poisoning me," Sumire giggled, taking the broom from the slightly dusty closet. She started sweeping the floor but she paused, looking back at me. "On second thought, whip something up that's fit for a movie marathon."

One thing I learned about her: she was a movie fanatic. I didn't believe that my eyes, with 20-20 vision, missed the sight of her humongous movie collection by the door.

"What's the genre of the movie, then?"

She laughed wholeheartedly. It was nice seeing her smile without a care about the world, unlike her demeanor during the early hours of Saturday evening. "Let's go with action. Unless you want to watch chick flicks..."

As I turned the electric stove on, I craned my neck to see her sweeping inside the cupboard. She poked her head out just in time to see me stick my tongue out at her. Sumire responded with an invisible kiss.

Minutes passed before the situation finally sunk into my mind: I didn't know what to cook. I wasn't exactly the best chef there was in town, and the only meals I thought were adequate for movie dates - in our case it was a friendly movie date - were hamburgers.

As if my plan was predetermined by fate, four burger patties were sandwiched between raw chicken wings inside the freezer. Sumire had a meager amount of food left in the refrigerator, and I doubt that it was even a week's supply. From then on I was certain that I needed to work harder in the grocery store and display commendable employee performance in order to get a raise in my salary. I didn't need the money that much, since my dad was depositing a reasonable portion of his pension into my bank account. On the other hand, Sumire was obviously lacking financial support.

Keeping your head up in the clouds - or just thinking about irrelevant things - was a really terrible idea. For me, it was more than terrible - the patties were burned like charcoal bits and a bit of smoke was rising from the pan. Another mistake I made - I panicked, got a bucket of tap water, and threw the content into the pan.

I ended up concocting a burned patty soup. Well, I definitely had no future in the food business.

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**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	8. Chapter 8

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**Dedicated to **(can I just list the people down OTL) **Black Maya, Annabelle Rae, Autumn Win-dow, and KidTantei. **Thanks for your reviews!

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340 **

_Chapter Eight_

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I ended up concocting a burned patty soup. Well, I definitely had no future in the food business.

Out of nowhere came Sumire, wearing a different (dry) ensemble. At first, she gave me a sign of encouragement by pumping her fist in the air and striking a really weird pose that involved having her right foot in an awkward angle and her mouth in a side-ward cheshire grin. When she saw the brown sauce all over the stove, however, her mouth looked like it had been unhinged. I intercepted the fact that she was going to kill me - which she did, anyway, by unleashing the wrath of Sumire Shouda's almighty fingernails on my ear.

"_What the hell did you do to my_ _kitchen?"_

The pain building on my earlobes were becoming way out of hand that I wanted to thrash around. "I - ow, what the fu - I'm sorry, okay! I didn't mean to - _shit that hurts stop- _"

"Your apology wouldn't change anything!"

"I know!"

In desperation, I pointed my index finger at the fondant cake forgotten on the kitchen counter and had the chance to break free from Sumire's grip. Her face was beet-red from all the fuss. She inhaled (more like took large gulps of air by fanning herself) and gently patted the spot adjacent to her heart. "_Never ever _anger me like that again. You don't want to die, do you?"

"I forgot to tell you that I rely on instant noodles for survival," I remarked. The throbbing aftershock of Sumire's fury nagged on my sense of touch, but I disregarded it and reached for the cloth on the sink. Earnestly, I wiped the traces of brown liquid along the stove so I could at least appease the woman beside me whose hormones were raging and alerting her battle mode. My shoulders involuntarily rose as if saying, _Happy?_

In the end, Sumire munched gleefully on the cake, successfully failing to leave even half of a slice for me. We were positioned on both ends of her small couch (which meant that we were practically sitting next to each other), and I was stuck watching the wonderful mood swings of a modern-day female due to a romantic drama. Cakes were simply made to be eaten while watching chick flicks, and I was glad that Sumire understood my logic even if it didn't make any sense - well, that resulted to me not even having a bite of Anna's pastry freebie.

In any case, Sumire threw the remote at the screen when the male protagonist left his girlfriend - he even earned a "Jerk!" from my companion in the two-man audience. Sumire chanted a series of curses when the female protagonist went through 'rebound' guys in hopes of healing her broken heart. When the confrontation scene arrived, Sumire condemned the male protagonist for being such a numb ass. However, the male protagonist had his own share of angst-filled suicidal episodes, to which Sumire reacted by requesting for the box of tissues lying on the armrest.

Amused as I was, I had to pop the question when the credits started to roll. "Hey, Sumire, I heard about the landlady. Was she asking for your overdue rent?"

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	9. Chapter 9

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340 **

_Chapter Nine_

* * *

Amused as I was, I had to pop the question when the credits started to roll. "Hey, Sumire, I heard about the landlady. Was she asking for your overdue rent?"

While she was trying to compose herself after the movie (she broke into breathless sobs and chortled at her own ridiculousness), she merely replied, "Life doesn't go smooth for all of us."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Koko," she leaned closer and examined my face. I examined hers, too, and besides from the occurrence of pink tinges in her eyes, I noticed the dark circles above her cheeks, the generous dose of freckles across her nose, the natural red tint of her lips. Sumire melted back to her side of the couch and sighed. "I don't need you, or anyone else, to pity me. I can handle this. Without any help, any compassion, or any other social responsibility that makes me look like an inferior being who didn't have a choice regarding her destiny."

"Why do you go to Natsume, then?" Another thing that I mentally added to the list of scenarios I hated - people pushing other people away. Sumire, by the looks of it, wasn't one to wallow in depression and self-pity, but she didn't need to prevent others from being in her world. What I didn't understand, though, was the situation that I normally witnessed at the bar - her, being harassed by Natsume; Natsume, having no concern for her at all and needing her only for physical affection.

Sumire's stare hardened, and she resigned to clutching one of the throw pillows. "We just met yesterday."

"Yes, and I know where you live, what movie makes you cry, what you wear during laundry day."

"You," she murmured softly, "have yet to discover who I am."

I gave her an incredulous look. "I suppose that's what I'm trying to do now."

"And that's what I'm trying to stop you from doing," Sumire said. She blew her nose into the tissue paper and refused to look at me. Silence settled between the two of us like a cloud of acid rain over a tower composed of steel. Sooner or later, this conversation would lead into a breakdown. Gone was the pleasant taciturnity that we had in our escape from the clutches of my manager and Natsume. Sumire never was in vain when she made an effort to surprise me, and that was reflected in what she was doing right now.

Tears came running down her cheeks as she started unbuttoning her blouse. "This...this is what you all want, isn't it?"

Automatically, I held her shaking hands. As spasms of affliction wracked her whole body, she mouthed the word '_Why',_ but it was clear that she didn't need to ask. She sunk into my chest and cried, wetting my shirt in the process. Her trembling made its way to my arms as well, and her hair smelled of detergent soap and vanilla. I didn't reassure her that everything would be fine, because not everything was guaranteed. I didn't tell her that I'd always be there to support her and shit like that. I didn't promise her that I would do everything in my power to protect her.

I couldn't. When she wept while enveloped in my arms, I could only offer her temporary solace. She looked up to me with saltwater all over her face.

_Her eyes were lovely._

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	10. Chapter 10

__**Author's Note**__**Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340 **

_Chapter Ten_

* * *

_Her eyes were lovely._

Perhaps I could say that _our _relationship was much odder than Sumire and Natsume's affair. Sumire and I were practically strangers (though I already considered her as my friend), but it felt like I had an obligation to fulfill when it came to her. Like everything just went 'click' when I saw her. For the record, she's the first girl who ever stirred this unknown feeling inside of me - in today's world, no man ever desired to become fond of a woman for mere friendship. There was always the hidden motive to get the girl in the end, whether by ring _or_ bed. But when I laid my eyes on Sumire Shouda, something unfathomable just urged me to go on and be a hero, even for once.

Funny to think that I wanted to be a hero, when I couldn't even save myself.

Before I realized it, the sun was submerging itself in a mixture of purples and blues. Stars were becoming visible now, and at this time I would have been at the bar already. Most people were still grooving along the music in a hip manner. When the sunset plunged into the wee hours of the night, however, the "clean fun" disappeared. I kept tapping my fingers on the wheel, and as I arrived in front of the well-lit disco bar, I seriously considered going back and hiding in my apartment. The thought of Natsume visiting the disco bar alone seemed very unlikely.

_"He's Natsume Hyuuga, son of the wealthiest CEO in Japan."_

My car seemed to be maneuvering itself, because it jerked forward and took a left at the parking lot. I stared dumb-founded at the keys slapping against each other when the vehicle halted. I was no longer welcome to display my flairtending techniques at the bar, but my own limbs refused to believe that fact. Some invisible conscience convinced me that _Natsume Hyuuga _was there, his arms spread on one of the couches and his hand maintaining a tight grip on his mug of beer.

_"I met him when I was eight. He was always grumpy, that one."_

Surprisingly, my former colleagues in the bar didn't flash me a warning sign as I stepped into the humid room, inhaling the mixture of smoke and alcoholic scent. They merely looked at me and resumed their business in the bar, probably because they didn't want to lose their only sources of money, too. Whatever the invisible conscience was, it was correct by all accounts. Natsume groaned out an unintelligible order at the waitress who walked past him, and said waitress duly complied.

_"He had lovely, crimson eyes. People thought he was a vampire."_

Natsume barely looked alive. He pounded his fist on the table and chugged the beer down his throat, enduring the scorching sensation it entailed. Though he was sweating, his skin was pale under the disco lights, and he smiled crookedly when he wrapped his arms around another random girl.

_"I wasn't the least bit afraid of him, though. Until then, I admired him."_

_"I didn't realize that admiration would soon turn into something more."_

For two days in a row, I made scenes which involved punching, swearing, and escaping. Never mind the girl who was now straddling him on the couch and exposing her thighs - soon enough, Natsume's collar was already in my grasp. His crimson eyes shifted for a moment before he took the scenario in. Before he could react or mutter some profanities, my fist collided with his nose.

His crimson eyes were as magnificent as the blood on his face. "_Damnityoufucktardwhatthehelldidyou-"_

"You're an asshole," I bit back, suppressing every ounce of abhorrence I had for the man who was writhing in agony in front of me. The alcohol started to loosen him up, and he widened his eyes at the recognition of my appearance. Another crowd was beginning to form around the two of us, but I didn't want to risk being sent to prison because someone deserved a nice old beating from me.

"_I was wrong, horribly wrong. He would never feel the same way."_

Ignoring all of his slurred statements, I hit his face once more before turning my full back on him. People watched my bruised knuckles with curiosity and sought answers to their questions, leading to the main problem that dared to ask why the hell a penniless flairtender punched one of the richest bachelors in the country. If ever I had the guts to say _because of one girl, _they would surely scoff and tell me that I wasn't in a television drama. What they wouldn't understand - or _try _to understand - was that some of us out there still had the humanity to actually care about what was going on in people's lives.

"_Do me a favor, Koko. Please leave for now and go home. I think you don't have to listen to all the crap in my life."_

_"On one condition. Let's go out on my birthday, Thursday this week. A friendly date, that's all."_

_She smiled. "Of course."_

_"Oh, and one more. I'll always want to listen to all the crap in your life."_

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	11. Chapter 11

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Eleven_

* * *

_"Oh, and one more. I'll always want to listen to all the crap in your life."_

**-x-**

7:30 in the evening was our plan. Actually, there was no existent plan - I happened to spout a random meeting time before I was ushered out the door. For me, Thursdays always had this sense of certainty that everything was going to be alright. Maybe it was sheer luck that my birthday landed exactly on a Thursday. Maybe it was sheer luck that I was going with Sumire Shouda on a real date.

Not that I didn't go out with some girls before. I tried finding 'the one' - the specific girl who was said to be my very own pacemaker - but I just didn't feel any sort of gravitational pull towards any of the women I had met. There was this Wakako Usami during my high school days. She had short raven hair and captivating eyes which seemed to change color every day. She was all-smiles, but she tended to be extremely idealistic that she ended up blaming me because I didn't have enough money to take her to the grandest restaurant in town. Needless to say, Wakako was the one who broke up with me.

Another one was Hotaru Imai. I had always been that drooling fan of hers - her superhuman-like intelligence interested me to no end. I enjoyed watching her tinker with her inventions in her own laboratory. She seemed like an introvert at first, but when she gave me a chance to get to know her better, it was ultimately surprising to note that she could eat two whole pizzas on her own. However, Hotaru had the gut feeling that I liked her best friend (well, I kind of liked everybody back then) and she seemed like the type of person who pushed everyone away. I let her go, not because it was easy to, but because she needed to understand that she didn't have to neglect people who cared for her.

Hotaru's best friend, the one that I 'liked' according to her assumptions, was no other than the bubbly Mikan Sakura. Months after Hotaru and I parted ways, I enrolled in a journalism course in the state university. Although I didn't aim to be a reporter or a newspaper columnist, I tested the waters and eventually enjoyed the Creative Writing class. I chose it as my lone elective, and that was the only class I had with Mikan Sakura.

At first, I thought she was a robot programmed by Hotaru to smile at people no matter what the situation was. Some of the college freshmen thought that her optimism was a little bit too creepy, while seniors lined up along the hallways to offer her flowers - roses, violets, even handpicked yellow bells. Others abused her naïvety and asked her to visit the library past school hours to review for the grammar test. The nerve wracking examination was scheduled on Friday, and the 'imaginative' guys chose to spend the afternoon before the exam to study with Mikan Sakura.

I was always the passerby with sharp eyes and social concern. On a Thursday, I managed to get kicked out of the only university that I qualified for (the only university that I worked hard to qualify for, rather) by beating three guys to a close resemblance of death. I didn't even bother to clean my clothes dripping with blood when I entered the principal's office. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mikan Sakura mouth a silent 'thank you'. Maybe that's all that mattered then.

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	12. Chapter 12

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Twelve_

* * *

I was always the passerby with sharp eyes and social concern. On a Thursday, I managed to get kicked out of the only university that I qualified for (the only university that I worked hard to qualify for, rather) by beating three guys to a close resemblance of death. I didn't even bother to clean my clothes dripping with blood when I entered the principal's office. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mikan Sakura mouth a silent 'thank you'. Maybe that's all that mattered then.

A few weeks after, the same time I stumbled upon the disco bar five hundred meters away from the grocery store, Mikan was gone from the university. Teachers speculated that she migrated with her father. Students spread rumors that she withdrew from the world because of her harassment. I forgot all about saving her, because I was much more focused on my two jobs - both of which had reasonable compensation.

That was it. Here and there, I had a few encounters in the area of romance, but I ended up getting kicked out of the zone each and every time. I doubted that my case with Sumire was any different, which was why we were strictly in the friendship field. I didn't dare to fall for her. I didn't think that I had the courage to do so.

Instead of drowning in self-pity, I engaged in a closet-wide hunt for appropriate clothes for our date - a birthday party with only two attendees. The upside of being a commoner was having a limited range of clothes - I seldom did my laundry and found a certain article of clothing easily. In the end, I chose a blue sweater - we weren't going to anywhere fancy, and we were certainly not going to be involved in break-ins and five-kilometer marathons.

At exactly 7:29 pm, I pulled into Sumire's orange apartment. The bedroom lights were still on. One thing I was yet to understand was the psychology of women and their long hours spent in front of the mirror. Sumire didn't need to be pretty for the date at all (she was already pretty, anyway).

At exactly 7:31 pm, sounds of rapid footsteps thundered in the first floor. I was about to knock but Sumire emerged from the door wearing dark-rinse jeans. She was clad in a blue sweater as well, and she had no make-up on. Her permed hair was hanging down her shoulders. I offered her my arm and she took it warily.

"Hi," she breathlessly said. The freckles across her nose emphasized the dark green color of her irises, and she looked completely stunning. "Sorry if I'm under-dressed. I forgot to separate the reds from the whites when I did my laundry, and half of my wardrobe has literally been in a bloodshed."

I inhaled her warm vanilla scent as we proceeded to my car. "It's okay, it's such a coincidence that we have the same outfit." While my blue sweater had the image of the Transformers icon, hers had a Doraemon print - which made me all the more confident that she was going to like my birthday place.

As if on cue, Sumire asked, "Where are we heading to? This is just a friendly date...right?"

"No worries," I said as I revved up the engine. To lighten up the atmosphere, I decided to elbow her arm. "You'll see for yourself. Besides, Natsume won't be there. I promise."

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	13. Chapter 13

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Thirteen_

* * *

"No worries," I said as I revved up the engine. To lighten up the atmosphere, I decided to elbow her arm. "You'll see for yourself. Besides, Natsume won't be there. I promise."

She sighed and relaxed in her seat. The road ahead was well-lit compared to our first joyride together. After an hour of driving through toll gates and heavy traffic, I finally saw our destination looming ahead. I pulled the clutch and positioned the car beside a row of flashy vehicles.

Sumire laughed and peered at the windshield, using her hands to block the extreme lighting from outside.

"Really, now? An amusement park?"

"Yeah, really," I replied. We both got out of the car and lined up to the ticket booth while chatting about the previous days. Nothing much happened. Sumire didn't go to the disco bar anymore. She tried to apply as a saleslady in the city mall, but the manager rejected her application once he saw that she was in the midst of a financial crisis. He said that 'she didn't need to be a liability for the company'. The assets in that damn company of theirs must be plain shit, then.

Somehow, Sumire reminded me of all of the three girls I've ever dated - Wakako, because she had that sense of royalty; Hotaru, because she was intent on pushing people away when she needed them most; Mikan, because in the face of everything, she found the reason to smile. Sumire wasn't exactly rich or superbly brilliant or innocent, but she was Sumire Shouda. I liked her just the way she was.

Upon arriving at the front of the queue, I took some bills out and received two tickets in return. Sumire giggled and wrapped the sticker around her wrist. "This is going to be _so _fun."

Before running to the horror house, I grinned and grabbed hold of her hand. "You bet."

**-x-**

The spicy quesadillas at the Daredevil section of the amusement park were delicious, but they weren't best eaten with scratches all over my arms. After a dozen rides on the rollercoasters soaring fourteen thousand feet high, Sumire lost her sanity and inflicted her fear upon me, in the form of pinches. She wasn't scared of the horror house, but she wanted to commit suicide after riding the rollercoaster - which was weird, by the way.

"When I said fun, I didn't mean getting my face whipped by the wind as I nearly plummeted to death," she spoke in a hoarse voice as we both chomped on our quesadillas. She downed the soda in a matter of minutes and pounded the glass on the table.

I couldn't help but crack up. "Consider this as an unforgettable experience."

"Experience of being dead in the air," Sumire said. She put on her adorable 'I'm-going-to-kill-you' face, but she raised her index finger and handed me a slice of chocolate cake. A greeting written in cursive adorned the top of the slice, and after a while, she gave me a lighter and a small, thin candle. "You dork. Happy birthday. Chocolate's the best, cheers you up in the toughest of times."

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	14. Chapter 14

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Fourteen_

* * *

"Experience of being dead in the air," Sumire said. She put on her adorable 'I'm-going-to-kill-you' face, but she raised her index finger and handed me a slice of chocolate cake. A greeting written in cursive adorned the top of the slice, and after a while, she gave me a lighter and a small, thin candle. "You dork. Happy birthday. Chocolate's the best, cheers you up in the toughest of times."

"Who said I had a tough time?"

Sumire smiled. "Don't you ever get tired of being the hero? Well, birthday boy, be happy for yourself, even just for this evening. It's time you celebrate your, um-"

"24th birthday," I finished, striking a match and watching it burn in a special kind of way. I've never had a birthday cake for years - technically, Sumire only gave me a slice, but it was so much more worth it than nothing at all. Sumire began counting on her fingers and gaped at me.

"Well, what?" I asked in between mouthfuls of cheese, bread, chili, and beef.

"Well," Sumire raised the plate of chocolate cake, "make a wish! Quickly, we need to go somewhere!"

I stared at the flickering flame of the candle. "You...believe in that kind of stuff?"

"Of course I do," Sumire said. She held the plate eagerly and urged me to blow the candle. "There's no harm in trying, is there? Besides, it's not wrong to have hope especially when situations become so hopeless."

Closing my eyes, I whispered, "Can I wish for the impossible?"

The heat of the candle caressed my face, and Sumire burped first before answering. "The thing about wishes is that they're supposed to encourage you to make them possible. Kind of like goals, but more imaginative. Nobody else is going to make them possible for you."

"Oh, all right."

Sumire inhaled sharply in the background.

_I wish that this day would never end._

As soon as I opened my eyes to a thin strand of smoke, Sumire pulled me up and abandoned the chocolate cake. She just chuckled while running through the swarm of families and teenagers with my hand in hers. We didn't stumble this time. We jumped over plastic cups, soda cans, and burger wrappers. It seemed like a bad idea to sprint like this after eating too much, but I looked up at the dark sky and found my answer.

Sumire wanted to ride the Ferris wheel with me.

Good thing the queue for the Ferris Wheel was short. There were children playing along the rails and eagerly waiting for their turn. It made me reminiscent of my own childhood, back when all I had to worry about was what thrill ride I should take first in the theme park. "What I don't get is the fact that you can tolerate heights and fast car rides yet you can't manage to stay alive in a rollercoaster," I remarked, catching her by surprise.

"Height and speed are two completely different things. Combine the both of them, and you get one hell of a phobia," Sumire said straightforwardly. Her hand tugged on mine again, and she hauled me forward to our seat. Unlike the conventional Ferris wheel seats nowadays which were enclosed in glass and metal, ours was an open one - which was amazing, considering that I wanted to be able to experience the ride without any solid surface to block me from the skyline and evening atmosphere.

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	15. Chapter 15

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Fifteen_

* * *

"Height and speed are two completely different things. Combine the both of them, and you get one hell of a phobia," Sumire said straightforwardly. Her hand tugged on mine again, and she hauled me forward to our seat. Unlike the conventional Ferris wheel seats nowadays which were enclosed in glass and metal, ours was an open one - which was amazing, considering that I wanted to be able to experience the ride without any solid surface to block me from the skyline and evening atmosphere.

One of the employees ushered us into our respective seat and demonstrated safety precautions. While Sumire nodded attentively, I resigned to fastening my seat belt and gazing at the night sky. There were no clouds to veil the distant stars tonight. The wheel began revolving, and the sight of hundreds of strangers below us somehow comforted me.

"It's beautiful," Sumire whispered against the cold breeze. Her eyes trailed horizontally across the panorama of the city. It was gleaming with lights from streets, buildings, and vehicles. We didn't feel afraid of having our feet dangling in empty air, because the Ferris wheel wasn't too tall, and the wonderful sights made up for it.

In awe, I barely remembered to converse with Sumire. "What is?"

She looked around the view, noticing the kids chasing each other, boats heading off to the oceans, all of the people leading their own parallel lives. After taking it all in, she gazed at me with her dark green eyes. "Everything. I've always loved riding the Ferris wheel - it lets me escape from all the people and occurrences that trip or hinder me when I'm on solid ground. It's...I feel _invincible. _I never forgot about being the kid who didn't want to come down because for once, I felt like I was flying. Like I was free."

"Never thought that you were a philosophical type of person." We shared a nice laughter together (me trying to control my boisterous laughter, and her ineffectively resisting the urge to guffaw), but I spoke again. "The end of the ride is inevitable, though. Sooner or later, you're going to have to come down."

"I know. That's why I ride the Ferris wheel over and over again."

Our seat was nearing the peak of the wheel. "So," I rolled the long sleeves of my sweater up. Now was probably not a good time to ruin Sumire's mood, but I needed to know if any progress was made during the week. "How are things with Natsume?"

Sumire simply stared off into the distance. "Honestly, I don't know. We'll just see when the time comes." She flashed me a peace sign and quickly took it back with an expression that stated, _I can't believe we're in our_ _twenties_. "It's a surprise that he hasn't reported us to the police yet."

"He was always drunk," I said. "I don't know if he even had the capability to report us."

"True," Sumire responded. She put a finger on her lips which quivered slightly due to the chilly air. Since I didn't have a jacket, the only solution that seemed logical was to wrap my arms around her - okay, maybe it didn't seem _that_ logical. "Now that I think of it, he only sees me in the evening. Probably thought I would ruin his businessman image and his connections with other companies. Hey, I might cause a scandal."

I scoffed at her unnatural optimism. "A scandal? What scandal, then? You, running away from that bastard? On second thought, let's not talk about Natsume anymore."

The girl with the permed hair pursed her lips and placed her cold hands over mine. Although I was a bit dumbfounded at the contact, I found it very soothing. Sumire made circular movements with her thumb and looked me in the eye. "Let's talk about us, then."

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	16. Chapter 16

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Sixteen_

* * *

The girl with the permed hair pursed her lips and placed her cold hands over mine. Although I was a bit dumbfounded at the contact, I found it very soothing. Sumire made circular movements with her thumb and looked me in the eye. "Let's talk about us, then."

"U-us?"

_No, _I told myself. We were on a completely platonic level. She was the best friend I've had in years, and I couldn't afford to lose that status. I've failed in romance a lot of times, and there wasn't any guarantee that I wasn't going to fail again.

Besides, I was ten thousand leagues beyond Natsume Hyuuga's own two feet. Even if Sumire was only treating me as a replacement, I wasn't good enough to be the businessman Natsume's doppelgänger. Not even close.

Sighing as usual, Sumire said, "Yes, us. There's something about you, Kokoro Yome - you're a great guy. You save so many people even when nobody could save you. I'm hopelessly in love with Natsume, that's for sure. But I'm beginning to doubt if I was worth it after all."

"You _are _worth it. You're much more worth it than he is. Don't tell yourself otherwise." I couldn't help but blab about how she didn't deserve Natsume Hyuuga - far beyond his riches, he was still an asshole. I didn't remember any of the things that I ranted about, but under the moonlight, I caught a glimpse of a tear sliding down Sumire's cheek.

She tried to smile in spite of the fact that she was crying. "Shut up."

"Oh, I won't-"

"Shut," Sumire rested her forehead upon my own, "up."

And just like that, she kissed me.

All coherent thoughts flew out the window. I didn't know if the fireworks that I heard were just part of the metaphors that couldn't even describe the sparks I felt. Like Sumire, I didn't want the Ferris wheel ride to end. I wanted to go on a red seat and witness the same magic on repeat. Going down was inevitable, though. That was one thing I couldn't escape from.

But as our seat descended on the ground, the skyline disappeared meter by meter, and the process of going down felt so sudden as the manner of me falling for Sumire Shouda, a woman whom I rescued only days ago.

_"Happy birthday, Kokoro Yome."_

I didn't really feel like I was the one who saved somebody else in this instance.

**-x-**

My quote-unquote best friend told me to wait for her outside the women's restroom. She reasoned out that her hair probably looked like a bird's nest after experiencing almost all of the rides in the amusement park, and although I wanted to argue that her appearance didn't matter to me, I kept my mouth shut and slid my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

Whatever the sparks ignited in the corner of my mind were, they weren't genuine for me. Perhaps Sumire was just using me to appease herself from Natsume's games. Perhaps I was like the rebound guy in the movie.

Nevertheless, it didn't change the fact that I was spiraling down to what seemed the 'love pit'. It was difficult to get out once I'd stumbled into the fissure. The touch of Sumire's lips was ingrained in my memory like second nature, like it was completely forbidden but felt damn right and perfect.

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	17. Chapter 17

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Seventeen_

* * *

Nevertheless, it didn't change the fact that I was spiraling down to what seemed the 'love pit'. It was difficult to get out once I'd stumbled into the fissure. The touch of Sumire's lips was ingrained in my memory like second nature, like it was completely forbidden but felt damn right and perfect.

Since I rarely had happy birthdays, I decided to celebrate it the extra mile. I had always been keen when it came to my observations, and to the left of the building in which the restrooms were located, there was a quaint little flower shop. Nobody in his right mind would put a flower shop in an unnoticeable part of the amusement park. However, the presence of the shop worked towards my advantage.

When I was in Sumire's apartment, I noticed the paintings of peonies above the television, in the kitchen area, and on the wall adjacent to the stairs. They reminded me of pink cotton candy. "Sumire," I said. "Do you like peonies that much?"

Sumire merely grinned in approval. "Roses are so over-rated nowadays."

I saw the cotton candy pink peonies displayed in the flower shop. True enough, there was only one rose left in the wooden compartments, but the container for Sumire's favorite flowers remained full.

While I was fumbling with my wallet, a tall, lean blonde walked out from the shop. Glasses with thin black frames were perched on his sculpted nose, and were covering his vibrant blue eyes. He looked tired and was wearing a doctor's coat. He didn't seem to see me at first, but when he did, he perked up and welcomed me to his store. "Oh, a customer! What may I do for you?"

"I'd like three peonies, please," I said, readying my wallet. Judging from the seasons of the flowers, the peonies were quite expensive during this time of the year. The blond doctor smiled apologetically at me and nervously looked at his wristwatch. "Honey! I'm late for my shift!"

"Mom, Dad is going to work!" A high-pitched boy's voice echoed inside the store, but I couldn't see the child himself. I thought that I heard the doctor's kid running towards me, but when I turned around, a woman wearing a pencil skirt and a blazer crossed her arms. Purple irises greeted me with astonishment.

"Kokoro Yome, what are you doing here?" said Hotaru Imai, standing before me in shock moderated by her indifference.

Her blond husband, or so he seemed, stopped checking his time. "Wait, you know each other?"

I expected Hotaru to reply with something like "_Unfortunately, yes," _but she was always a woman of breakthroughs and surprises. "Kokoro Yome, this is Ruka Nogi, my fiancé. Ruka, Koko. The little boy you heard was his stepbrother. Don't mind him. And Ruka, Koko is my friend. It certainly surprises me to see him here."

"Oh." Hotaru still bore the sheer elegance that she had in the old days. She retained her short hair, and she didn't look like she was the owner of a little flower shop and the mother of a toddler. I somehow expected the most from her, seeing as she was the smartest girl I'd ever known. "I was wondering if I could buy three peonies."

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	18. Chapter 18

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Eighteen_

* * *

"Oh." Hotaru still bore the sheer elegance that she had in the old days. She retained her short hair, and she didn't look like she was the owner of a little flower shop and the mother of a toddler. I somehow expected the most from her, seeing as she was the smartest girl I'd ever known. "I was wondering if I could buy three peonies."

Hotaru, before responding to me, murmured a few things to Ruka and pushed him out of the door. She then turned to me with her violet gaze which didn't seem that hypnotizing anymore, but she was still gorgeous, nonetheless. "I regret to inform you that no one is managing the flower shop as of now."

"You mean the shop _isn't _yours?"

"It isn't mine, of course," Hotaru replied, masking her entertainment. I, however, mastered the skill of reading through her passiveness. "The whole of the amusement park _is _mine, though, along with several other businesses that have been optimally successful in the past few years. I'm wondering about what happened to you, Yome."

"Still the same," I said. "So I couldn't buy the peonies...?"

"Of course you can," Hotaru expressed her disagreement by folding her arms once more. "Fifty dollars."

One of the things that I expected from Hotaru was to be unreasonably demanding in terms of prices. She always had business on her mind, after all, and maybe she only got engaged to that Ruka Nogi because of financial benefits. "That's ridiculous. Three dollars."

She subtly raised her eyebrows. "Forty dollars."

"Three dollars," I countered, handing her the bills.

Hotaru snatched the money. "Thirty seven dollars more, Yome."

In turn, I snatched three peonies from their wooden compartment and counted my steps toward the doorway. "I'm leaving. Nice seeing you, Imai."

Sometimes I knew her better than she knew herself. Hotaru didn't flinch from her spot, as I had concluded, and whispered, "Nice seeing you, Yome."

When I trudged back to the space in front of the restrooms, Sumire was pacing around in a soliloquy. Maybe she thought that I had left her in the middle of the night in a crowded theme park. I waved at her and hoped that she wouldn't attack me with her ferocious nails. To lessen the possibility of casualty, I gave her the three peonies. "Thanks for coming."

Carefully receiving the flowers, Sumire said, "I thought you weren't coming back, you dork. I had fun, too, so no worries about that." She traced her hands over the pink petals, and her lips curved upwards.

We walked back to the car silently - no holding hands, no arm slung around her shoulders , no type of physical affection. Far more than the exhaustion that was beginning to sink in, the ambiguity of our relationship made the atmosphere a bit awkward. It wasn't that I didn't want to look for something more - there was this freezing sensation in my stomach that told me not to proceed. Something was stopping me, and I didn't know who or what that was.

My beat-up car was on Highway 340 again. The road was like its million siblings scattered all over the world to form forks and two-way streets - it was a place for recklessness, for an unknown journey, for chances. A lot of people drove through it in the hopes of getting somewhere. It was a form of escape. It was one thing leading to another. Accidents happened - cars collided, blood was spilled on asphalt, lives were lost.

But Highway 340, for me, was more than that.

It was the only thing that reminded me that Sumire Shouda was sitting next to me, whatever the circumstances were.

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	19. Chapter 19

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Nineteen_

* * *

But Highway 340, for me, was more than that.

It was the only thing that reminded me that Sumire Shouda was sitting next to me, whatever the circumstances were.

Because I drove a little more leisurely this time, we got back to her apartment forty three minutes late. Sumire slept for a while, and every now and then, I heard her head bumping against the interior of the vehicle. She swore and closed her eyes, and after five minutes, the same thing happened again.

The peculiar orange color wasn't what glued me to the sight of the apartment this time. In front of Sumire's door a man in a business suit stood, and when the tires created crunching noises against the gravel, he turned around. I detected his crimson eyes immediately.

Sumire seemed to have done it, too. She got out of the car in haste and didn't wait for me to shut the engine down. I heard her clearly. "What are you doing here, Natsume?"

I got out of the car in an instant and looked at the esteemed Natsume Hyuuga, waiting patiently in front of a run-down apartment. I've waited for the day when I'd be able to meet Natsume without an ounce of alcohol in him, and the waiting had finally come to an end. He ran his hand through his raven hair and hesitated to stare back at me. "I wanted to see you. Sort things out."

I thought I was screwed.

Natsume released a scorning breath and rubbed his temples. He found it difficult to tell us the words he was supposed to say. "I...I apologize for the ruckus last Saturday. I've cleared all publicity, just so you wouldn't be bothered anymore." He paused briefly. "I also paid the landlady for any of your debt."

"Paid?" Sumire asked with a little voice. She was on the verge of crying again, so I pulled her by the arm and positioned her behind me. "Natsume, you don't have to do that. Don't."

Self-control was my main issue, and it took all of my willpower not to slam my fist against Natsume's nose (it had been fixed due to plastic surgery, that much was obvious). Sumire stepped in front of me and motioned for me to stay put. "Natsume, this is my friend, Kokoro Yome. I'd appreciate it if this night ends peacefully."

I nodded at him to acknowledge our introduction. With his deadpan stare, he seemed to be thinking deeply, perhaps of matters on how to dispose me. He suddenly spoke up. "Sumire, would you care to go inside for a moment?"

"Nothing dangerous. Don't do anything dangerous," she warned. Sumire looked warily at the both of us, her gaze switching back and forth, before silently convincing herself that things were going to turn out well. Her keys dangled from her hands like relaxing wind chimes. She gently opened the door, and closed it afterwards.

"Kokoro Yome?" Natsume inquired, as if confirming my identity. He drew his phone from his coat pocket and dialed a few numbers. The phone kept ringing and ringing, signaling my oblivion, but to my relief, the person on the other end of the line didn't answer the call. Natsume sighed.

His head hung low and he focused on his shiny leather shoes - the expensive ones that I didn't and wouldn't have the capacity to purchase. "You...you saved Mikan Sakura a few years back, am I correct?"

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	20. Chapter 20

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Twenty_

* * *

His head hung low and he focused on his shiny leather shoes - the expensive ones that I didn't and wouldn't have the capacity to purchase. "You...you saved Mikan Sakura a few years back, am I correct?"

At the mere mention of Mikan's name, I asked, "How would you know?"

I didn't expect him to remain silent for about three minutes. When Natsume finally responded, his _glassy _crimson eyes peered at me. He cleared his throat and handed me a piece of paper with an address written on it. "Meet me there at eight o'clock in the morning tomorrow. It's extremely important."

"I'm attending my work tomorrow," I said, returning the piece of paper to him. "I'm sorry but I can't go."

He didn't hold his hand out to accept the paper. Natsume only drawled out, "Didn't you ever wonder why Mikan disappeared from the university?"

Mikan wasn't my concern anymore. She'd been a part of my life once, and I wasn't so sure if I was ready to let her back in. "I didn't. I've lived my life, and I don't have a say in her choices."

"You might reconsider," Natsume said. Just in time, a sleek black car parked in front of the apartment. Natsume walked down from the elevate doorstep and slipped inside the car without another word, leaving me with the piece of paper that read 'Adelaide Cemetery'.

I went back to my own car without saying good night to Sumire.

**-x-**

"You're telling me that Mikan Sakura's dead?"

Natsume bent down on one knee and studied the grave in front of him. He strangled the grass in order to keep his balance, and he didn't seem to mind the soil clinging to his trousers. A furious wind blew past us. "Yes."

The man in the business suit appeared so wistful when he ran his hands over the date etched on the tombstone. "She discovered that she had aneurysm. That afternoon, when she was harassed, she only decided to proceed to the library to research about her terminal illness."

I saw a startling shade of crimson. Natsume Hyuuga looked up, shook the dirt from his hands, and leveled his gaze with me. "Do understand this, Mr. Yome. I am not a man of gratitude, but for her, I'd like to thank you. You delayed her...time."

"How exactly are you related to her, Hyuuga?" I asked nonchalantly. Deep inside, I was sorry for what happened, and maybe for the man standing beside me in a tranquil cemetery.

Natsume scrutinized his shoes and hid his trembling hands inside the pockets of his coat. He opened his mouth, but regretted doing so. Instead, he clamped his jaw shut and breathed sharply.

It was in his actions that I recognized a broken man - he loved her, of course; perhaps he loved her more than he valued himself and the countless businesses that he invested in. He was using his fame and wealth as diversions from the harsh truth that he was walking alone in a tumultuous path. He was far beyond repair.

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	21. Chapter 21

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Twenty One_

* * *

It was in his actions that I recognized a broken man - he loved her, of course; perhaps he loved her more than he valued himself and the countless businesses that he invested in. He was using his fame and wealth as diversions from the harsh truth that he was walking alone in a tumultuous path. He was far beyond repair.

He didn't answer my question. "Do you, Kokoro Yome, know why people become bastards? Why they blind themselves with the supposed pleasures of life which are alcohol, sex, and drugs? Why they relish in the putrid smell of smoke and dizzying flashes of disco lights?"

Taking my silence as his cue, he threw his head back and faced the gray sky. Natsume Hyuuga closed his eyes. He was asking me for the sole reason why he was in the disco bar, wasting his life away with another mug of beer. As a man, I knew that he wanted to cry and scream for Mikan's death. But he couldn't. The most he could do was destroy himself by visiting the graveyard of the girl who made his life worth it.

"It's because they've been broken, far too much, to still give a damn about fixing themselves up again."

A seemingly perfect man was telling his fatal flaw to another man who had much more flaws than he had. My only link to Natsume Hyuuga was a woman with hazel eyes and hair and a heart of gold, yet the businessman trusted me to keep his secret. Looking back, I remembered that I was puzzled when Natsume took another swig of beer in the disco bar while wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

I felt less determined to pursue something more with Sumire.

Natsume coughed. He turned back but knelt down once again to touch the top of the tombstone with his lips. We headed to the parking lot, and before we got into our own cars, he said, "I wouldn't want the reporters to see me this way, but I risked my reputation to make you understand - it's up to you if you _want _to understand."

A heavy weight pulled me down into the driver's seat. I was wrong about him. I was horribly mistaken - Sumire deserved someone better than me, someone who knew what it was like to lose the one he loved. Natsume was using Sumire as a replacement the same way Sumire used me as hers - but Natsume found the reason to lower his pride and admit that he had someone else in mind.

Something bugged me. A piece of paper stuck out from my dashboard in an odd way, and I reluctantly retrieved it.

_Please do understand this: I believe that Sumire Shouda, no matter how different she is from Mikan, also holds a special place in my heart, although I'm quite unsure of how wide that area is exactly._

_-N.H._

Three years after, I am inspecting my reflection in the faultless mirror. My brown hair is trimmed to perfection, my white suit is embellished with a corsage of a pink peony, and my smile never falters, not even one bit. I have bought seemingly expensive cologne that perfectly matches the aura of the day's special event. This is one of the rare moments that happen only once in a lifetime, or maybe never at all.

* * *

**Constructive **criticism is very much welcome!


	22. Chapter 22

**|Author's Note| Rated T **for language...and stuff. I'm pretty sure this fic isn't M.

**Pairing: **Koko x Sumire.

**To the readers, **I apologize for any errors. I hope you don't skip paragraphs haha. Well, then. Enjoy!

**Final Chapter**

* * *

**Highway 340**

_Chapter Twenty Two_

* * *

Three years after, I am inspecting my reflection in the faultless mirror. My brown hair is trimmed to perfection, my white suit is embellished with a corsage of a pink peony, and my smile never falters, not even one bit. I have bought seemingly expensive cologne that perfectly matches the aura of the day's special event. This is one of the rare moments that happen only once in a lifetime, or maybe never at all.

But it happens for me. Before I leave the hotel, I make sure to proceed to the room where hairdressers, designers, make-up artists, and close friends initiate a riot around a certain woman in the longest white dress that she ever wore. The knob turns gently, and when I step inside the chaotic space, all eyes are on me.

Dark green ones stand out from the rest.

Sumire widens her mouth in shock and struggles free from the grasp of her audience. She carefully walks over to me in her heels, her trademark curls accentuating her lovely face. Her veil is still hanging on the back of her head with a diamond-studded pin. She tackles me into a hug. "Oh god, Koko. I'm so nervous about my vows. Maybe I'll screw up and-"

I pat the top of her head, mindful of her hair. "You'll do fine." I plant a chaste kiss on her forehead and squeeze her arms. "I love you, all right?"

"Me too," she enthusiastically replies. She mutters an '_oops' _and proceeds to her hairdresser, who glares at me with the best of her ability. I take the opportunity to exit from the hotel and proceed to the cathedral swarmed by hundreds of attendees. Sumire arrives a few minutes later, and as she walks up to aisle with a bouquet of pink peonies, she looks like the happiest person on the face of the Earth. Her smile is enough to send ripples of warmth to my heart.

But it pains me to see that she, in her long wedding gown, walks past me, and towards the man with bloodred eyes waiting at the foot of the altar. The bells ring in the background - Natsume Hyuuga takes Sumire's hand in his own, and hundreds of cameras blind me with flashes of light. I sit there, controlling every halfhearted breath and watching as they make promises of forever, and though I know that Natsume won't break those promises, I want to be the one who stands beside Sumire.

Long after, I am on Highway 340 again. The story of us plays back in my mind with every fist hurled, every tear cried, and every chance taken. I didn't take my chance, though. I remember the grocery store, the orange rundown apartment, the disco bar, the movie marathon, the Maroon 5 escapade, the amusement park, and all of the things that happened in probably the most exciting whirlwind of my life.

I find myself in the disco bar, where the whiff of alcohol and cigarettes reigns. I spot Mochu, one of my co-employees three years ago. A crowd is showering him with rounds of applause as he tosses, spins, and catches the bottles with the grace that I once had. Soon enough, I am surrounded by the type of women whom I once detested. They press their legs on my own and urge me to take another gulp of the beverage that burns my throat until I can't speak anymore. Everything goes hazy, but I feel like I am invincible. Like nothing would hurt me. Like I am flying as I once did in the Ferris wheel.

And when morning comes, I stretch my arms and see a different woman beside me, one who doesn't have a ridiculously curly hair and dark green eyes. I abandon the blankets and loathe myself for wasting a night of temptation and pleasure. I regret stepping into the disco bar and believing that no one could hurt me, because in this way, I am hurting myself over and over again.

Still, I have the courage to face the mirror and no longer see a man with a white suit and a pink peony for a corsage. I ask him, the man staring back at me with sullen eyes, _'Why?', _but Natsume's answer years ago is the one that greets my question hello.

_"It's because you've been broken, far too much, to still give a damn about fixing yourself up again."_

**-x-**

**end**

* * *

**Some notes: **I used "Highway 340" because the vices mentioned by Natsume in the story are as follows: sex, which has three letters; drug, which has four letters; and alcohol, which has four plus three= seven letters. (I removed the 's' from drugs to fit the reasons orz) Actually, I only thought of the coincidence after I already finished the story. I really tried to write a happy ending...but it seems as if I feel sadistic towards my favorite character 8D Also, the guys lining up to give Mikan flowers during their college days signaled her death in the near future.

I love Koko. Along with Hotaru, he's my favorite character, thus the abundance of my Koko-centric fics.

Constructive criticism is very much welcome. Thanks for reading! I wub you all. Let's fill the fandom with wub, wub, and wub. :"")


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